The Hat Trick Box Set

by Samantha Wayland

  “Where are we going?” she asked.

  He couldn’t process the question through the buzzing, jumbled thoughts banging around his head. Mostly he was thinking he was going to buy some ZZ Top on iTunes later. Legs. “What?”

  “Tonight? A business meeting? You said something about saving the Cats.”

  “Oh, right. Yes. We’re having dinner with Edwin Lamont.”

  “What?”

  He grimaced. Maybe he shouldn’t have sprung that on her as they turned into the recluse millionaire’s driveway. “I called from Halifax and explained we were with the Ice Cats and wanted to talk to him about the sale.”

  A massive stone and timber mansion rose above them as they crested the hill that hid it from the street.

  “Tonight? Now?”

  Garrick sighed and ran his hand through his freshly cut hair. He missed the curls but had to admit he looked more like a businessman and less like a hockey jock this way. He didn’t think Edwin Lamont would give him the time of day either way, but Garrick was determined to put his best foot forward, regardless.

  A gentle hand on his arm brought him back to the more immediate issue.

  “I’m sorry,” he said. “I was so focused on the invitation and getting us here, I didn’t give you time to prepare.”

  Savannah looked around. “Whose car is this?”

  “I hired the car. I didn’t want to show up in a taxi, plus I didn’t think a taxi would be willing to pick up two passengers at two different doors of the hotel and drive us all the way out here.”

  She cocked her head. “Two different doors?”

  “So you wouldn’t be seen going out with me all dressed up.” He paused. Had he blundered again? “I thought you would be more comfortable with that.”

  He tried to gauge her response. It would be fucking terrific if someone would write down the male/female friendship rulebook for him. This playing by feel thing was a bitch. Every time he—

  Her smile brought his thoughts to a stuttering stop. She put her hand on his arm again. “Thank you. That was very considerate.” She hesitated, frowning. “I imagine I seem paranoid to you.”

  Two months ago, Garrick might have said “hell yes” without a thought. Two weeks ago, even, probably wouldn’t have understood. Not completely. These days, though, he was getting the hang of Savannah.

  “No, not paranoid. Careful. Smart. I get it.”

  “You do?”

  He smiled. “I do.” The car came to a stop and Garrick watched over Savannah’s shoulder as a solemn older gentlemen opened the front door. “Holy crap. He has a butler.”

  Savannah glanced behind her before turning back to him. “What the hell are we doing here?”

  “We are going to convince Lamont not to shut down the team until he finds a buyer.”

  “How the hell are we going to do that?”

  “I don’t know,” he confessed, watching her eyes go wide and her mouth drop open, “but it’s going to work.”

  The door opened behind her and the driver’s hand appeared, ready to help her from the car.

  “Are you insane?” she asked in a furious whisper.

  It was a fair question.

  “Not insane.” He wrapped his hand over hers where it still gripped his arm. “Determined.”

  “Are you insane?” Edwin Reese Lamont III asked Garrick before looking at Savannah for confirmation.

  “He prefers the term determined,” she said.

  Garrick flashed her a quick grin and she couldn’t help but smile back. Whatever the two of them had thought they were getting into that night, it certainly hadn’t been this.

  For starters, she’d assumed Edwin Lamont, recluse millionaire, heir to a family fortune and Ice Cats owner, would be a crusty old miser with grey hair, rheumy eyes, and maybe even one of those silver-handled canes rich people called “walking sticks”.

  Instead, here stood a thirty-something year old man, chestnut hair perfectly coiffed, clear green eyes so direct they could look right through a person and see into her heart. He was tall, slim, fit. Built like a swimmer, with good shoulders and strong hands.

  The strong hands part she knew after watching him and Garrick play pool for the past half hour. His long, lean fingers worked the cue like a seasoned pro, his smirk at the beginning of the game warning her he was about to hustle Garrick.

  She hadn’t expected Garrick to be so good either.

  They’d retired from the stuffy formal dining room as soon as the last course was cleared. The food had been amazing, the service frighteningly efficient. But the biggest surprise had been the company.

  Reese, as he insisted they call him, had been nothing but surprises. As had his companion, the estimable Mr. Rupert Smythe. From the moment they shook hands in the foyer, it was clear Mr. Smythe wasn’t just Lamont’s business manager. He was also Reese’s best friend.

  So here they were, in the Billiard Room—she hadn’t known those existed outside the game of Clue—watching Reese and Garrick try to whomp each other, both now long past the realization that no one would be hustling anyone.

  Savannah stood next to the bar with Rupert, sipping her beer and laughing at the banter between the two men and Rupert’s dry commentary on his friend’s strategy. The atmosphere was friendly, though an undercurrent existed that she had been trying to put her finger on since dinner.

  Garrick smiled up at Reese, his cheeks pink from wine and laughter, and winked at their host. She almost choked on her beer as she finally figured it out.

  Garrick was flirting. With Lamont.

  Their host didn’t seem to mind in the slightest.

  She laughed at yet another surreal twist to their evening. Rupert grinned. She was more uncertain than ever about what the hell was going on, but she couldn’t deny she was having a good time.

  When Garrick’s intended—and supposedly insane—double-banked shot struck the twelve and pocketed it in the corner, Savannah whooped.

  “Determined is right. Reese, my friend, you’re going down,” Rupert said.

  “Thank you so much for your support,” Reese said dryly.

  Rupert lifted his wine in salute. “What friends are for.”

  Reese harrumphed and stepped out of the way as Garrick walked around the table to take his next shot. He took aim, but Reese leaned against the bumper, putting himself in the way. Garrick stood, the cue sliding through his fingers to rest on the floor, and cocked his head.

  “Why are you here?” Reese asked, not unkindly, but with a hint of suspicion.

  Garrick opened his mouth, twice, before snapping it closed.

  Rupert put his glass down on the bar and muttered, “Always was a bad loser.”

  Reese waited patiently for Garrick’s answer.

  “I’d like to speak with you about the Ice Cats.” Garrick’s voice was calm, but she knew him well enough to know he was nervous—he wasn’t moving.

  “I’m selling them, as I’m sure you know,” Reese said coolly.

  Savannah stepped forward. “I heard you were thinking about shutting us down.”

  Reese and Rupert exchanged a quick look and her heart sank. It was true.

  “It seems your management hasn’t been discreet.” Anger heated Reese’s voice.

  “No,” she said quickly, “it was me. I accidentally overheard a conversation I shouldn’t have.”

  Reese’s shoulders went down a fraction, but he still looked pissed. His face remained neutral. Rupert’s too. But there was something there, the flirtation gone, their gazes narrow.

  “Why would you shut us down?” Garrick asked, sounding more curious than angry.

  She had to give him credit. It was difficult to reconcile this stone-faced Reese with the warm and funny host they’d laughed with not two minutes prior.

  “I don’t really have a choice. We’ve been losing money for a while. I had hoped Mark would be able to turn things around, but there has been little improvement.” He went on to detail what they’d tried. The
marginal successes, the outright failures. His recitation was clinical, though not without compassion. Savannah found little comfort that he obviously didn’t want to put people out of work, since he wasn’t going to let that change what was, to him, a business decision.

  Garrick listened, nodding occasionally and giving Reese his undivided attention. Then he started asking questions.

  Savannah smiled, silently cheering on Garrick as he tacked Reese down at every turn.

  Just a hockey player, my ass.

  He countered each issue with a suggestion. If it had been tried, he offered an alternative. If it was glossed over, he picked it apart. Reese took it well, rising to the debate, his responses getting more passionate. He referred to Rupert for facts and figures. Rupert was not just a business manager in title, but an absolute wizard with numbers and statistics. His memory for the details was impressive, bordering on frightening. The man could quote, with confidence, the smallest minutia about the team and its finances.

  During one of his recitations, Savannah realized Rupert was subtly supporting Garrick’s arguments, not Reese’s.

  “Do you think the Ice Cats can be made profitable?” she asked Rupert, cutting into the conversation.

  All eyes turned to him. He glanced at Reese, who rolled his eyes but remained silent.

  “Yes,” Rupert admitted, his voice quiet compared to the heated debate seconds before. “I do.”

  “How?” she asked.

  “He doesn’t know,” Reese said, his smile kind. He turned back to Garrick. “He actually had already argued most everything you have as far as the arena and how to expand its markets.”

  Garrick smiled at Rupert. “Great minds.”

  “But,” Reese continued before the men could bond over their shared ideas, “he admits that in order for the team, as well as the arena, to be more profitable, there would need to be some changes.”

  Garrick’s brows drew in. “What kind of changes?”

  “You need to win more. A championship.”

  Garrick winced. The Cats did all right, but they hadn’t won a championship in all the time Garrick had been on the team, nor for almost a decade before that.

  Reese nodded, smug. He clearly believed he’d just dealt the coup de grâce.

  Savannah couldn’t let it stand.

  She stepped forward. “That’s completely doable.”

  Chapter Eight

  Everyone turned to Savannah, who crossed her arms and tilted her chin defiantly in the face of three disbelieving stares. When she shifted her weight over one leg, the other stretched endlessly to one side.

  God, those legs are amazing.

  Garrick tore his gaze away before he rightly earned the caveman label.

  “The team could win more, but you’ll have to invest,” she informed Reese. She lifted one eyebrow and dared him to dismiss her.

  Garrick smiled. The legs were great, sure, but they weren’t the best part.

  Reese crossing his arms, returning her challenge. “Every time I invest in someone new and expensive, I lose them to the NHL or one of their feeder teams, Ms. Morrison. It can be profitable, but not sustainable for building a championship team.”

  “You don’t need better players, Mr. Lamont. You need better talent management. You need to cut your dead weight and invest in better training, management, and coaching.”

  “Excuse me?” Reese’s eyebrows disappeared beneath his perfectly trimmed hair.

  “You’re counting too much on the raw talent,” she explained, “and not enough on the people who can and will develop that talent if you let them. What you need is discipline. If you get it, you can build a winning team that also generates NHL talent—two profitable outcomes for you.”

  Reese’s huff of laughter was somewhere between patronizing and insulting. Garrick forced himself to remain silent, confident Savannah could still fight and win this battle.

  “You don’t believe me?” Savannah said with a little smile. “Fair enough. How about an example? You kept the last trainer on board even though he did jack-shit to strengthen your players, and in some cases made systematic errors that probably shortened their careers.”

  Rupert’s mouth fell open.

  Garrick grinned. He was actually getting a little turned on. She was magnificent.

  “Look at Sanders,” she went on. “He was gold in the net and gone by twenty-five because he had no stamina. No discipline. And Gorensky, who practically limped out of Moncton, only to go on and kick ass in Vancouver after proper rehabilitation and a move to special teams to maximize his talents.”

  Rupert and Reese appeared slack-jawed as they stared at Savannah. If either of them so much as insinuated that a woman shouldn’t be taking them to school about how to run a hockey team, Garrick would happily punch them in the nose.

  Savannah glanced at him, doing a double-take when she saw his wide smile. He winked at her.

  Her lips twitched before she turned back to their hosts and launched into a complete breakdown of the current team—each player, their strengths, their weaknesses. Then the coaches. She strode across the room and they parted like the Red Sea before following in her wake, gathering in front of the dart board. She used the scoreboard chalk to draw out special team weaknesses in crisp white on green.

  Garrick wanted to laugh. He wanted to grab her up and spin her around and kiss her breathless.

  Reese and Rupert were a rapt audience, asking questions that proved she’d long-since dispelled any doubts regarding her acumen for the business. She had them hooked and was slowly reeling them in.

  Arguing with Lamont had been exhilarating and Garrick could see the same thrill in the flush on Savannah’s cheeks, the light of determination in her eyes. He knew what he and Savannah argued made sense. These were sound options. Maybe he didn’t have the business-side experience, but he’d watched the business of hockey for a long time and done his homework. He’d read the articles, the analysis, watched which teams flourished and which failed. He’d always been curious why and tried to find the answers.

  He could only hope Reese Lamont would listen to what he’d learned.

  Savannah was winding down her arguments, having now fully detailed the weaknesses of their key rivals—and damned if Garrick didn’t feel stupid for not seeing so much of this before now—when she turned back to her audience and paused.

  Rupert immediately went to her side. “That was fantastic!”

  She smiled.

  “It certainly is a lot to consider,” Reese allowed, thoughtful.

  She shot Garrick a nervous glance.

  “Are you thirsty?” Rupert asked.

  She put a hand to her throat. “Yes. I left my beer on the bar.”

  “It’s gone warm by now. I’ll get you a fresh one.” Rupert strode to the bar with Reese close behind.

  The minute their backs were turned, Garrick threw his arms around Savannah and lifted her into a great big hug. He didn’t even care if she felt the steel bar in his pants.

  He let go and she stumbled back, blinking.

  He just grinned and jammed a hand in his pocket to hide the evidence of just how fond he was of her at this moment.

  Reese called from behind the bar. “What are you having, Savannah?”

  She looked at him blankly.

  “What do you want to drink?” Garrick prompted softly, trying not to chuckle at her bemusement.

  “Oh. I uh…I love Moosehead.”

  Garrick looked at the ceiling, schooling his features, but a snort still escaped.

  “What?” she asked.

  Reese’s groan carried from behind the bar. Rupert rolled his eyes as he delivered the beer.

  “What?” she asked again.

  Garrick sighed, resigned, and smiled down at her. “How can you tell that someone loves Moosehead?”

  She looked at him, adorably confused. “How?”

  “Antler marks on their thighs.”

  Garrick held Savannah’s coat for her and she didn�
�t bother to protest the chivalry. Sliding her arms into the sleeves, she looked around the Lamont foyer one more time before she turned back to Garrick and buttoned up.

  “Really? Moose head?” She shook her head.

  “It’s a rite of passage,” Garrick said. “Every New Brunswicker has to tell someone that joke at least ten times in his life or his citizenship is revoked.”

  She chuckled. “Oh really? I’ll have to bear that in mind as the single most compelling reason I’ve heard to date for not applying for citizenship.”

  Garrick was still grinning when Rupert and Reese arrived to say goodnight. They all shook hands. She genuinely hoped to see them again—and not at the official sale or dismantling of the Ice Cats.

  “Will you think about what we said?” Garrick asked, his hand still clasping Reese’s.

  Reese nodded. “I will. Though, to be fair, I should tell you that if a reasonable offer comes in, I’m going to take it.”

  Hope and frustration were a familiar mix of emotions tonight. He wasn’t talking about shutting them down, at least, but Savannah wanted more. A renewed commitment from Reese. A new owner would bring a host of unknowns, though at least it would mean jobs for them and a lot of other people for a while longer.

  “Thanks,” Garrick said.

  “Yes, thank you,” she added. “For listening. And for a lovely night. I hope we see you again soon.”

  Reese’s warm smile slipped, his brow drawing down. Her heart ached at his obvious confusion, and only then did she remember that this man reportedly never left his house. They had been having such a lovely evening, and he’d been such a gracious host, she’d completely forgotten.

  Reese regained his composure, his momentary lapse only evident in the now-visible lines around his eyes. His smile returned, albeit tentatively. “I hope you’ll consider coming to see us again next time you’re in town.”

  Rupert abruptly stopped speaking with Garrick and peered at Reese as if he’d grown an additional head.

  “We’d like that,” she said.

  “Wonderful,” Reese said, shooting a dirty look at the still wide-eyed Rupert before ushering them to the door. “Hodges will see you back to your hotel. Good luck at your game tomorrow night.”